Page 55 of The Iron Hex

“Are you sure your memory is gone?” Evangeline said. “Because that’s an awfully good read on me for someone who doesn’t remember me.”

“It doesn’t take a genius, Evangeline... just someone who sees what’s in front of them.”

“I want to get away from the commander,” Evangeline complained.

“Why?” Eira asked, cringing at Evangeline calling him that again. “He’s saved my life several times already, and the Iron Empire clearly wants him dead. Whoever he was before, I think he’s changed.”

“I think he’s a snake that will do what he needs to survive,” Evangeline sniffed.

Eira looked at Evangeline, at the rage simmering behind her eyes and settling into her thick brows, drawing them lower. What had Hugo done to Evangeline specifically to make her hate him this much?

“Evangeline, we need him. After we get my memory back we need to figure out how to get Astra out of the hands of the Iron Empire, and Hugo has a plan,” Eira said.

“A plan he hasn’t bothered to tell you yet.”

“We were focused on finding you first!” Eira retorted, but Evangeline was right, and Eira hated that she was. Eira’s heart reached out for Hugo, and her body lit up when they touched, but there was a part of her that was so unbelievably frustrated with him for not telling her the truth of things. She didn’t want to have to defend him like this; she wanted him to be transparent with her.

“I suspect that he’s got some trust issues after his time in the Iron Retinue,” Eira justified, leaning back on her elbows on the soft, worn bedspread.

“I suspect he’s got a lot of issues,” Evangeline sniped back, looking down at Eira.

“Well,” Eira said, pushing herself off the bed and standing. “I would like to stick with him, if only for protection and to figure out what he wants with us.”

“He could kill us in our sleep,” Evangeline said.

“He hasn’t yet,” Eira responded.

“You’re so pigheaded,” Evangeline scoffed, crossing her arms indignantly.

“From my understanding, that is who I’ve always been.” Eira smiled brightly.

“It is,” Evangeline answered. “Fine, we’ll stay—for now. Just be careful, okay?”

Eira placed her hand on Evangeline’s shoulder, causing the princess to flinch.

“Sorry,” Evangeline said as she placed her palm on Eira’s. “Just not used to people touching me when I’m... a person.”

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Eira said. The princess was harsh and angry, but Eira wondered how much of that was born out of living in fear for her own life for the past three years. Living in terror that you’d be executed would probably do that to just about anyone, and it seemed like somewhere down deep, Evangeline only wanted to make sure they were both safe. Eira wondered if that was something Evangeline and Hugo could bond over, if they could speak civilly for long enough without killing each other.

28

Rhona

The Iron Retinue had kept Rhona busy for days after her eventful conversations in the prison. First, she had been tasked with preparing three contingents of soldiers to depart for the southwestern coast of Astra, between Archport and Broughton. Rhona thought back to her conversation with Lord General Kerrigan about the Corisians and how they were not particularly amenable to renewing the peace treaty between Astra and Corisia. Then she thought about the Corisians trying to disrupt the Iron Empire’s trade... tensions were building, and it could mean all-out war sooner than any of them expected.

Now Rhona tracked through the mud to the farmer standing in the middle of his field, sent on a mission to talk to those who grew the Iron Empire’s food about their destroyed crops to determine if it was Corisian sabotage or just poor farming. She kicked the mud, frustrated once again that she wasn’t one of the soldiers sent into glorious battle.

“Sir, I did what I could to keep the crop good this year,” the farmer said. Rhona couldn’t even figure out what the manhad been farming, the organic matter black and crumbled, far past wilting.

“Did you not water your crops?” Rhona asked, far too gruffly. She felt instantly guilty as she watched the farmer’s face fall. She hadn’t risen so far that she had forgotten how hard a life like his was.

“Sir,” the farmer said, “I watered them every day as I have the past thirty years, and as my father did before me. First they wilted, and then overnight it all died. Sir, I do not know what to do.”

“Were the crops burned?” Rhona heard a crunch under her feet as she stomped on one of the bundles of decayed matter.

“No, ma—” Rhona glared at the man. She wouldn’t harm him if he called her “madam,” but she certainly wouldn’t be overjoyed about it either. “Sir, there have been no fires set.”

“Has this happened to the other farmers?” Rhona asked as she placed a hand on her forehead to block the sun’s glare as it bore down on her in her plate armor, and she squinted to look at the fields adjacent to this man’s farm.